the mission
by cornwallace
Summary: What do you know? [Folf] {lemon}
1. one

Bailey Jay once said - "there's a fine line between my biggest kinks and my deepest fears."  
She does not exist in this universe, but as an outcry to the void, you could say it rings as true as anything else.  
Slippy calls into Fox's ear for help and Fox discards his headset. He's on a mission.

Amongst all the chaos he zeroes in on just one craft, just one critter – Wolf O'Donnell. The ship taking a wide left and firing wildly at some hapless grunt.  
Fox leads.

Aim. Fire.  
Burst round of three. Regroup. Wolf is aware of Fox, reroutes in anticipation. A barrel roll deflects green lasers in all directions.  
Tips down. Left. Pulls up. Head on.  
Fox can almost see the look in the pilot's eye as the Wolfen careens towards him in the vacuum. They fire and dodge each other masterfully as they get closer and closer. Arwing dips, Wolfen rises.  
Fuck it, Fox says under his breath. Gritting as he pulls down hard on the controls. Smashing the nose of his Arwing into the Wolfen, spinning it off track.  
Surprise motherfucker.

Fox swings himself around hard and lights a fire under Wolf's ass. Wolf hits the boost and drops a bomb at the same time. He erratically flies towards a nearby planet.  
Boosting after him and not noticing the bomb at all, Fox takes some wing and windshield damage. Quickly fumbling for his air mask.

Following Wolf O'Donnell to what very well could be his grave. 


	2. two

The turbulence is reminiscent of the fabric of reality being torn apart from the very center of your brain.  
Not that it's something he'd experienced in this instance of reality, but something about those words rang true to him at just that time.

* * *

"What are you reading, Fox?" Slippy asks.

His voice irritates Fox sometimes. It can't be helped.  
"Nothing," he says, trashing it.

Slippy glances into the bin and notes the headline on the newspaper reading STAR WOLF SAVES THE DAY IN APAROID ATTACK. He decides not to say anything.  
"When do we need to be ready?"

"Oh, seven hundred," Fox says casually.

"Semper Fidelis," Slippy sighs. He takes the pot out of the coffee maker and pours himself a cup. Steam drifting off the surface, Slippy blows on it and flicks it gently with his tongue before making a -kkckkhhh- sound with the back of his throat. "How much we getting' paid, big papa?"

"Times are tough, Slip," Fox says, breathing through his nose. "Hard to say. Six hundred each?"

"Bullshit!" Slippy makes an exasperated noise as he sips his black coffee. "What happened to the Abloober case? Wasn't that oppumstacks?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that was oppumstacks. We got undercut by 'more qualified' mercenaries." Fox does the obnoxious exaggerated airquotes where applicable.

Slippy glances at the bin again. He doesn't say anything. Again.

"We're on the opposite end, which doesn't pay nearly as well." He pours his own cup of coffee. Cream. Sugar. A painful sip. "Hopefully we can hit them hard and wring them dry."

Surprised. "Are you talking about robbing other mercenaries?"  
Fox looks at him like he's an idiot and pauses for a moment.

"If they're corpses," he shrugs and takes another sip. He makes a -hhhkkkhh- sound with the back of his throat.

* * *

Fox's vessel flies past a plume of black smoke like a dancing black snake in the gentle arms of the wind.  
He then crashes into an irregular field of grass and gravel.

Were you to ask him prior to landing if he'd like to stay conscious, he'd say yes, I would love to stay conscious so I can arm myself and track down Wolf O'Donnell so I can shoot him in the face many times until he dies because that's what I took this dangerous low-paying mission to do.  
However, Fox had no say in this matter.  
He was unconscious on impact. He dreamed of a hundred savage warriors with spears amongst a blood red sunset, screaming and stabbing at a wounded dinosaur until its last breath was torn from its esophagus and its lungs were eaten in front of it as its existence faded into the void.


	3. three

_-ante up with your ass 'cause you aint got a penny-_

* * *

"Well well well," Wolf's muffled voice accompanied by the heavy thud of boots against steel causes Fox's eyes to twitch open. Wide. Scared. Confused. "If it isn't Fox fucking McCloud. I've been looking left, right and centre for ya, mate!"

He roughly shoves a crowbar into a breech in the hatch and starts prying the vessel open. Fox acts quickly, jamming the ignition switch. The engine whines like a dying whale.

"FUCK!" he slams his fists on the console.  
Wolf lets out a hearty laugh. "Oh no you don't, love."

Wolf tears free and discards the hatch as Fox fumbles with his safety belt. Bleeding out of his ear, the right side of his head rings. He can only hear out of the left. He releases himself and looks up into Wolf's bloody smile. His eye wide with excitement.

Leaning in to punch Fox in the side of the head, he grabs him by the collar and pulls him out of the wreckage before punching again and almost casually tossing him aside.  
Weakly, Fox rolls over onto his forearms and tries to drag himself. Wolf watches in amusement.

"Tryna leg it again are ya?" Wolf smirks. "You won't get far, cupcake."  
Wolf takes a couple swift steps to catch up with him and playfully kicks at his ankle.

Fox stops and struggles to his hands and knees. Wolf kicks him hard in the stomach. Knocking the wind from his lungs.  
He topples over to his side again. Struggling to wheeze. He holds his hand aloft in Wolf's general direction in a poor attempt to shield himself.  
Wolf is on top of him, he slaps his hand away and punches him in the eye and then the jaw. Grabbing him and hoisting him up by the collar. Head limply lolling around the top of his torso. Arse to elbow. Wolf steadies him.

Fox huffs and pants desperately in Wolf's grasp. Turning his head to spit out blood. Eyes submissive.  
That's when Wolf notices Fox's erection grinding into his ass.

He's caught of guard – startled, he laughs. "Have you got a fucking boner?! You've gotta be twisting my knickers."  
Taking advantage of the situation, Fox grabs him by the collar and pulls him in. Stares him in his eye and his patch. His tense muscles relax and he kisses Wolf softly on the mouth.  
Gently at first. Before forcing his tongue into Wolf's bloody, startled maw. Wolf's eye closes and he reciprocates, leaning into it hard. Fox's hands weakly tugging at his jacket and then at his shirt as he helps him take them off respectively.  
"Fancy a bleedin' bonk, do ya?" Wolf whispers, panting.  
Fox nods with his eyes closed and drags him back into the kiss.  
Breaking the kiss only to remove articles of clothing. Unbuckling his belt, he gives Fox a hard nip on the neck, making him yelp and grind against him harder.  
Pulling his pants down and crawling over them onto Fox again. Undressing him now.  
Jacket. Shirt. Dropping his pants to his boots and his socks, he guides him by the hips to turn over right there in the middle of the field, next to his destroyed Arwing.  
Penetration. Rip. Tear. Moaning. Panting. Screaming. Bleeding.

Screaming.

Blood and semen spraying against the gravel and the grass and the dirt in specks and splashes. A soul is torn apart into digestible pieces only to be eaten.  
A fire rages in the distance, amongst the wreckage of the Wolfen and the surrounding trees. The shadows dance violently.


End file.
